The Long Road Home
by KalenCaelli
Summary: A series of vignettes covering the scenes we don't see, but know had to have happened. Complete Rizzles.


**Title: **The Long Road Home

**Rating: **M

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rizzoli & Isles. If I did, they'd totally be tapping it.

**Author's Note: **I should probably preface this by saying that I had absolutely no plans to write for another genre until my Mass Effect story was finished, but I kept noticing all of my favorite authors kept posting for this crazy show. I resisted at first because I absolutely do not need another project, but I finally decided to check it out because I had to see what the hype was about.

And then I fell in love. Yes, the leading ladies are hot; although that's not the main reason I love that show, but the screenwriting and the incredible job this have done with these characters makes it do you cannot fall in love. I watched every single episode back-to-back and then again to start this story.

Each chapter of this story will span the length of an episode, and will consist mostly of those moments that are not on the show (though I cannot promise not to cover any of the show's events). Jane and Maura will end up together, eventually. When that happens, the story will be slightly AU to take the recent events of the show into account.

Rated M for sex, language, blah blah blah.

A special shout-out to my partner in crime, Rae and Leo; and a special dedication to Snafu – thanks so much for the beta and for gifting us with such wonderful characters to fall in love with.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 1: A Nightmare Revisited (Covering: Pilot)**

_"Jane."_

She woke with a start.

Brown eyes wide with unrestrained terror, Jane Rizzoli's hand was already reaching for a gun before her mind registered that she was alone.

_Jesus **fucking **Christ._

Open palm pressing against her mouth, as if that very act would calm her racing heart and her heaving chest, Jane fumbled quickly for her phone, a low groan erupting from her throat as she threw it back on her nightstand.

"Two o'clock? Are you fucking kidding me?" Grabbing her sweaty pillow, Jane groaned, flinging herself against the bed with an aggravated sigh.

_Fuck._

_**FUCK.**_

With a disgusted snort, Jane pushed herself to her elbows, kicking her bare feet over the edge of the bed, hesitating for only a brief moment before pulling her gun out of the top drawer of her nightstand and padding to her bathroom.

The sound of the water running did little to calm her nerves, and Jane stared silently at the steady stream for several moments before she set her pistol aside with a sigh. Cupping her hands, she splashed the water on her face, allowing the temperature of the water to draw her into alertness.

_Just a nightmare, Rizzoli. Get over it._

Balled fists resting on the edge of the sink, Jane willed her breathing to slow, trying to push the last vestiges of the nightmare from her mind.

Christ, it had been weeks since he had invaded her dreams. Maybe even months. Glancing nervously at her pistol, Jane contemplated calling the prison.

_And ask them what? To check on Hoyt? Get a grip, Rizzoli._

"Damn it," snatching her gun from the back of the sink, Jane stomped back to her bed, flinging herself onto the mattress with a disgusted sigh.

"I must be losing my mind," Jane muttered, glancing darkly at the shadows in the corners of her room, as if expecting to see Hoyt's eyes staring back at her, studying her.

_"You belong to me."_

"Shut up!" The brunette's yell was muffled by a pillow pulled tight across her face. "Just leave me alone."

There was no response, of course. She was completely alone, left with only the flickering shadows and the echo of Hoyt's sinister laugh.

"God," she whispered, "just leave me alone."

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

"Wait up, Jane."

Annoyance flickered briefly in those familiar eyes, normally tanned features ghostly pale under the dimmed streetlamp.

"I'm tired, Korsak. I wanna go home and crash." Vince Korsak was no idiot – neither of them was going to get any sleep – not after this crime scene. He felt the slightest twinge of guilt at the dark smudges underneath Jane's eyes; he should have pulled her aside, warned her that this would have Hoyt's MO written all over it. But Korsak hadn't quite forgiven Jane for dumping him for Sir Pukes-a-lot, and to be honest, the similarities between this and Hoyt hit a little too close to home._Christ, she looks terrible._

"I wanna go with you when you question him," bracing himself for the inevitable shit storm coming his direction.

Jane's eyes narrowed in anger, her steely gaze coming into sharp focus as she pinned him with her best 'go to hell' glare. "Like hell you will," Jane practically spat, and in full intimidation mode spun around, glaring at Korsak.

"The lieutenant..."

"The lieutenant assigned me this case, Korsak. Me and Frost." Jane crossed her arms over her chest, booted feet tapping in rhythmic cadence.

"That was before we saw the MO," he argued, ignoring her obvious attempts to unsettle him. "The second he finds out about this, he'll pull you off the case." Not entirely true – though Jane didn't need to know how much Korsak had argued to keep O'Donnel from bypassing Jane entirely and dumping this nightmare in his lap. He was actually the first one called, literally seconds before he'd been about to board the damn plane for his first vacation in nearly twenty years. He'd argued with O'Donnel for thirty minutes while he'd raced back to his car, and then with the warden when he'd initially refused to have his guard captain verify that Hoyt hadn't escaped his cell.

"Frost's green, and he can't even look at a stiff for a second before he loses his lunch." Just the mention of Frost's name was enough to raise his already high blood pressure.

Wounded pride ran both ways.

"He was robbery before he joined homicide." Jane argued. "He's perfectly capable of questioning a suspect."

_Yeah, but are you?_ "Not Hoyt, and not without backup." The words were out of his mouth before he could sensor them, and unconsciously took a step back at the raw anger in Jane's eyes.

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Jane's glare could have melted steel. "I'm not a rookie anymore, Korsak. I'm a lead detective on a homicide investigation and this is my case," poking a finger at the center of his chest to emphasize her point.

"I'm not saying that you're not capable of interviewing Hoyt," he held his hands up in silent appeal. "But if you're right and Hoyt is pulling the strings behind bars, then you're his next logical target and we need to put you in protective custody."

A flash of memory – of Jane writhing on the ground, hands pinned to the ground by a pair of razor-sharp scalpels.

_"It hurts. It hurts. IT HURTS!"_

"Whoa whoa whoa here," Jane's hands flew up, Korsak's eyes darting briefly to the faded scars on her palms before guiltily meeting Jane's eyes.

"I am a senior homicide detective. I do _not_ –" her brown eyes narrowed, and she repeated "–_not _need to be followed around by a couple of uniforms who barely know which end of the gun to hold. My case, my suspect. Are we clear?"

"Jane..."

"Are. We. Clear?"

Korsak sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I got it."

Jane's gaze lingered for a few long moments, before she turned and headed for her car. Korsak watched her leave, his expression pensive as the taillights faded into the dark of night.

"Jane gone already?" Barry Frost's voice was tentative, hesitant even, as if he wasn't quite sure of himself. Korsak kept himself from snapping off a sarcastic retort – it wasn't Frost's fault that he'd been assigned to be Jane's partner, after all.

Still, he couldn't keep the bitterness from seeping through as he traced Frost. "You listen to me," jabbing a meaty finger into the other detective's chest, "when you go question Hoyt tomorrow, don't you dare let him get under her skin." Frost's eyes hardened.

"This isn't my first..."

"I mean it," voice rising, Korsak ignored Frost's protest. "I don't care if you have to lay that son of a bitch flat, you don't let him talk shit to Jane. Understood?"

Frost nodded sharply.

"Understood."

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Interrogating a perp could be challenging on a good day, but Jane would have rather had teeth pulled before facing Hoyt again.

That bastard was still every bit the smug son of a bitch he'd been before prison, and he still knew every last one of her buttons to push. It'd taken every last bit of her tenuous control to keep from losing it back there – and even then, it almost hadn't been enough.

She should have listened to Korsak. Hoyt hadn't given them any solid leads. The trip was basically a bust and they still weren't any closer to solving that case.

And her palms were itching again, damn it.

Frost seemed sullen, withdrawn, and after his loss of temper at the prison seemed ill inclined to talk. The walk back to the car was mercifully silent, a fact for which Jane was extremely grateful.

_"I like that scent – the smell of lavender and fear."_

Jane slammed the car door as she sat down, her knuckles tightening their grip on the steering wheel. This was more than just fear. This was...Jane swallowed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. _Damn Hoyt_. Why couldn't he piss off the head of some prison gang or get shanked in the showers or...

"Where we going?"

"Hayes Park." Jane started the car and glanced quickly at her partner. "It was posed in the woods."

"Posed? You think they wanted us to find it? Or was it a mistake?"

_Hoyt doesn't make mistakes. _

Jane shrugged. "We'll know more when we get there."

"Guess so," Frost's eyes stayed focused on the road, purposely avoiding looking at Jane. Several minutes passed in silence before Frost spoke again. "I'm sorry for losing my temper in there."

"You did fine, Frost." More terse than she intended. Jane sighed, "Hoyt's good at pushing buttons. You want to get under his skin – don't let him see you sweat."

"That why you played it so cool in there?"

_No. _Jane nodded gruffly, keeping her eyes focused on the road. She could feel Frost's eyes leveled on her hands, pensive and brooding.

_Don't ask. Please don't ask._

He didn't. The rest of the car trip was blissfully silent.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

"Jane?"

Maura stepped into the small bathroom that was used mostly by herself and the few technicians who worked in the basement, her hazel eyes softening in concern at the sight of her best friend, who was leaning against the sink, hands gripping the edge of the white porcelain in a death grip, staring silently at the flow of water. Lines of tension radiated down the Jane's arms, corded muscles flexing intermittently. The fluorescent light cast an eerie pall over the detective, highlighting dark smudges underneath her eyes that betrayed her lack of sleep.

Maura hesitated. Should she approach Jane and try to offer some comfort? Would the detective even allow it? Jane rarely let her guard down, keeping everything and everyone at arm's length. She was so hard to read sometimes and…

_Face it, Maura. You don't have the greatest track record when it comes to dealing with the living._

Even though they'd been friends for over a year, the doctor still had problems determining when Jane wanted consolation and when she preferred to be left alone. Dealing with living, breathing people had never been her strong suit, and circumstances like these made it even worse.

"_A few hours ago Charles Hoyt escaped custody."_

_Jane half-sat, half-collapsed against the edge of Maura's desk. The temperature in the morgue seemed to drop ten degrees, all color draining from her face. The half-finished tuna salad fell to the ground, all but forgotten._

_Maura's eyes darted to Jane's, and then Dean's, and then back to Jane's as the detective slowly turned to meet her gaze, her eyes filled with something Maura had never seen, at least not in her best friend._

_Terror._

Walking slowly, so as not to alarm the detective, Maura crossed the room, the sound of her heels echoing above the din of the running water. Ensuring she remained within the field of Jane's peripheral vision, the doctor reached out, gradually slowing the flow of water until she had shut it off.

"A running faucet wastes six and a half gallons of water every minute," Maura said, the trivia coming easily to mind as she studied the scars on Jane's trembling hands. It was so easy to fall back into the familiar, the world of facts and figures and quotes, and a world that was so much easier to understand than the people in it.

The scars on the backs of Jane's hands were slightly puckered, and Maura found herself silently cataloguing all of the bodily structures that would have been damaged when the scalpels had pierced her hands. _Epidermis, dermis, hypodermis, superficial palmar branch of the radial art…_

"I can't believe that they let him escape custody," the words came so softly that she almost didn't hear it. Dark, troubled brown eyes met Maura's own, blinking rapidly against the sheen of tears.

Now she was truly frightened. Cool. Calm. Collected. Strong – these words suited Jane Rizzoli. Jane was never weak. Never vulnerable.

"It would have been almost impossible to determine if Hoyt was faking his illness without extensive laboratory tests," Maura soothed, resting her hand atop Jane's. Or at least, she would have, had the detective not jerked away sharply.

Maura blinked, surprised at the twinge of hurt that accompanied the rejection. Jane's eyes lowered apologetically, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

"I'm sorry," Maura mumbled, feeling foolish. She shouldn't have come.

"It's… okay." Jane murmured, hesitating for only a moment before reaching out to give Maura's outstretched hand a quick squeeze.

Releasing it, Jane began to pace around the room. "Hoyt is not the first inmate to pull this trick. Someone should have known what was going on. And why the hell is _Federal Agent Dean so_ interested in this goddamn case?"

"I…" What was she supposed to say? "I…" Maura began again, the rising norepinephrine and epinephrine levels causing her heart to race, beads of sweat forming on her brow as she struggled for answers she did not have.

"Hey," Jane slid her fingers under the doctor's chin, forcing the hazel eyes to meet her own. "I'm sorry."

Heat rushed to Maura's cheeks at the simple gesture. Maura nodded weakly, forcing a smile to her lips. "It's okay, Jane."

Their eyes lingered on each other's just a second too long to be comfortable.

Releasing Maura's chin, Jane pulled away, running a hand through her tangled curls. "I…" she swallowed. "I think I'm going to head out. It's been a long day."

"Jane," Maura called out quietly, the detective pausing at the door, looking back over her shoulder. "You should stay with me…" Realizing how that sounded, she quickly added, "You – probably shouldn't be alone. Right now. I mean…" Why was this so difficult?

"Thanks," Jane's met her gaze for only a minute before darting away, hands working their way into her back pocket as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "I think I'm just going to go home." She smiled ruefully. "I'm not exactly great company right now."

Maura watched as Jane slipped out of the room, worried eyes following the detective as she disappeared from sight.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Maura hesitated only briefly before knocking at the door to her guest room, aware that Jane had hurriedly flung herself in the bed just moments ago. Truthfully, she felt a little guilty about the whole thing – Jane really liked Dean, despite her deliberate attempts to pretend otherwise, and there was no way the detective would believe he was coming by to_ just _drop off some files.

Okay, so she _had_ intended to use this opportunity to gauge Dean's interest in her friend, to determine if he was a suitable match for Jane, and maybe to share a few insights about Jane's personality, but that was it. Honestly.

"Go away, I'm asleep."

A small smile rose unbidden to her face as Maura opened the door, taking in the sight of her best friend sprawled out atop the sheets, the pout on her face rivaling that of a two-year-old. This was a side of Jane Rizzoli that few saw – the woman behind the tough, take-no-prisoners façade. Strong, intelligent, fiercely loyal to her family and friends…

But she wasn't invincible. Maura could see the insecurity and fear behind those brown depths as she made her way to the bedside, climbing into the space next to Jane.

"Are we having a sleepover or is this your way of telling me you're attracted to me?" Maura giggled, the very notion that she could be attracted to Jane was… well, not ludicrous, because Jane was undeniably gorgeous, with her soulful brown eyes and legs that stretched on for… _oh god…_ Maura's neck flushed. She was _objectifying_ her best friend in her time of crisis. What kind of terrible person was she?

Swallowing thickly past the lump in her throat, Maura forced herself to focus on the ceiling, trying to organize her thoughts.

"So it was Dean you were expecting?" Jane's tone carried with it more than a hint of jealousy, and Maura found herself floundering for an explanation that wouldn't involve lying to her best friend.

"He wanted my opinion on another case." It was the truth, so no danger of breaking out into hives or fainting. That it had been Maura's idea for him to bring the files over to her house … well, Jane hadn't asked about that, so she technically wasn't lying.

"What case?" Jane glanced over to her, thumbs tracing circles along the paths of her scars.

"I can't say." At least not without breaking a dozen federal laws, something Dean had made abundantly clear before agreeing to bring the files over. A matter of national security – an ex-soldier-turned-CIA-agent-turned-rapist. She wasn't exactly thrilled with keeping Jane out of the loop, and had said as much to Dean, but the federal agent wouldn't budge. So she'd had to make a decision – the more she knew about this case, the better she would be able to protect Jane.

Hopefully Jane would understand.

"Fine." Then again, maybe not. Jane huffed, rolling her eyes as she pulled away from Maura, "Go sleep in your own room."

Sometimes, it was like dealing with a two-year-old. "Jane," Maura rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

"Did you ever like the same guy as your best friend?"

So that's what this was about – Jane was _jealous_. Maura wondered if she could use this to goad Jane into action. "No," she replied smugly.

"Did you ever have a best friend?" Jane's brow wrinkled slightly.

"No." Truth, still. Maura never had many friends growing up, at least not of the female sort. In fact, Jane was had been the first person who'd really offered her unconditional acceptance.

"You'd tell me if you were a cyborg, right?" Half-joking, half-teasing, Jane nudged her lightly in the side, little tingles of electricity coursing through her skin along the site of contact.

"No, I don't think I would," Maura teased back, a smile spreading across her features at Jane's laughter. She would give almost anything to hear that laughter from her best friend's throat, see the way Jane's eyes crinkled at the corners when the detective was really, truly happy. It rarely happened, but when it did…

_Stop that, she is your best friend._ The doctor glanced away uncomfortably. What in the world was wrong with her? Jane was a friend – _a friend_ – and nothing more.

"I'm not seeing him…"

"…yet." Jane's thumbs absently traced the scars in the middle of her palms – something the detective only did when she was incredibly insecure or upset.

"Well _somebody_ should, don't you think?" Dean was undeniably attractive, tall, dark, and handsome – and Maura believed he and Jane would make such a cute couple, if only Jane would lower her guard and allow herself to _trust_ him.

But trust was something else Jane did not come by easily.

"Yup," came the curt reply, the acknowledgement that maybe, just maybe, there could be a spark there.

"Should we draw straws?"

"Couldn't we just show him our tits and let him decide?" The dark humor was so typical of Jane Rizzoli, making light of what would otherwise be a very stressful situation. Maura giggled nervously – it was not her intention to seduce Dean – she had merely wanted to ascertain whether his personality would be compatible with her best friend's. More than anything else, Maura just wanted see Jane happy.

A loud thump sounded downstairs, causing the detective to shoot upright, the color draining from her face as her eyes darted nervously towards the doorway of Maura's guest bedroom. Almost immediately Maura sat up, rubbing Jane's shoulder with one hand while her other lightly closed on her bicep. "No, it's okay," she soothed, reading the fear in her friend's eyes. "It's just Bass." Maura reassured her.

"Really, it's okay," she soothed, pressing lightly against Jane's shoulder, trying to offer some small measure of comfort. Jane's eyes flitted back and forth between the door and the doctor, eventually allowing herself to be guided back down by the gentle pressure on her shoulder. For a long moment the two women lay there, in silence, their minds on the same thing.

"I've never been so scared in all my life." Maura's breath hitched, caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. Jane Rizzoli was many things but for her to admit she was afraid…?

"Do you want to talk about it?" They had never discussed what had happened in that basement with Hoyt – sure Maura had heard the rumors, read the reports, especially after she and Jane grew closer as friends. But the reports were vague and most of the details had been excluded from the official file. And not even Sergeant Korsak would elaborate on the details that had led to Jane's capture by Hoyt or what had happened after he'd found her.

"I think we should get some sleep," Jane ignored her question, dark eyes imploring Maura to let the subject matter drop. Maura's heart sank – of course Jane wouldn't want to talk about what had happened. What would Jane want to talk about something so personal with _her_? Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Maura nodded, rolling over to the side of the bed and pushing slowly to her feet.

"There are some fresh towels in the guest bath if you'd like to shower, and the toothbrushes and floss are in the drawer." She hesitated. "My bedroom is down the hall if you need anything."

Jane nodded, a weak smile forcing its way to her face. "See you in the morning," the detective gave an exaggerated yawn, her arms stretching above her head as she feigned exhaustion, indicating that this conversation was finished. Pushing Jane into talking would only result in the detective shutting down even further, perhaps even driving her away. Maura sighed softly, acquiescing to the unspoken request as she padded down the hallway to her master bedroom.

Hours later, she lay in bed, alone, staring numbly at the ceiling. Apparently Jane wasn't the only one to go without sleep tonight.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

"At least he has good taste in flowers."

"Tell that to Gaile Jaeger, Maur," Jane's drawled sarcastically, brown eyes narrowing in anger as a light blue Honda Odyssey cut in front of her unmarked cruiser, forcing Jane to slam on her brakes and lean in her horn. "Hey, watch where you're driving!" the detective screamed as she swerved around the offending minivan, causing Maura to clutch her Birken bag tightly to her chest.

"This is why I prefer to drive," Maura murmured under her breath as Jane wove in and out of traffic with only minor regard for traffic laws. "Riding as a passenger in your care invariably raises my systolic pressure twenty points." Sparing a quick glance at Jane out of the corner of her eye, she inquired, "Why don't you use your siren?"

"I need to keep this on the down low until we've verified the body." Bypassing one of the hundreds of taxicabs that dotted the city, Jane pulled onto the highway, drawing a welcome sigh of relief from Maura. "If we broadcast this on the channel every reporter in the city is going to flock to our crime scene like a pack of vultures." Left unspoken was the underlying reason _why_ Jane needed the victim to remain a secret, reasons that she knew Maura wouldn't approve of.

"Have you been sleeping any better?" Maura inquired lightly, the astute hazel eyes not missing the dark smudges that were the answer to her question.

"Oh yeah, every night I dream of fluffy bunnies bringing me ice cream cones," Jane retorted sarcastically, ignoring the hurt expression that flickered across her friend's features. A long, uncomfortable silence dragged on between the pair, the discomfort tugging at Jane's heartstrings until she cast an apologetic glance at Maura. "Sorry," the detective muttered.

"It's... okay," Maura said hesitantly, clearly fearful of further raising Jane's ire. "Your body is probably producing high levels of cortisol and norepinephrine in response to the stress." A pause, "It's a perfectly natural hormonal response. Normally I would suggest increasing your intake of tryptophan or taking a melatonin supplement an hour prior to sleep, although yoga has proven..."

Jane allowed Maura to continue speaking, her mind tuning out the words as she recalled the nightmare that had kept her up every evening since she had walked into that first crime scene.

The basement was cold, and damp, the air musty and stale from years of leaking pipes, allowing a fine film of mildew and mold to permeate the rotting wood.

She had come alone – without Korsak, without any backup – relying on her intuition and a certainty in her gut that had come only after hours of tediously piecing together the limited forensics like pieces of a well-worn jigsaw puzzle. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she descended the steps, the ensuing creaks reminding Jane of a really bad horror movie.

Sidearm out, Jane swept the darkened cellar with a practiced hand, never lowering her guard, well aware that the perpetrator could be lurking in every corner, behind every shadow.

It wasn't until she'd landed on the hard-packed dirt and her eyes registered the sight of a bound and whimpering Catherine Cordell that she'd realized she was way in over her head. Only the faintest rippling of air had alerted her to Hoyt's presence before the two-by-four cracked cleanly across the back of her head blinding Jane momentarily and sending her gun flying across the room.

Only it was never Catherine in her dreams. It was Maura, bound and gagged and bleeding, screams of anguish muffled by the duct-taped gag as she watched Hoyt pin Jane's hands to the ground.

Always Maura.

Taking the exit that would lead to the park where the body was discovered, Jane forced down the unwanted memories, forcing herself to focus on the issues at hand and the impending argument that was sure to come. They had little choice, however. Staking out the body was the only way they had a shot of capturing Hoyt's apprentice (and Hoyt, for that matter), and any evidence they lost by letting the body sit would be far outweighed by the possibility of a living, breathing DNA sample.

Maura would just have to forgive her.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Dean watched as Jane Rizzoli talked to a pair of young officers, presumably giving the rookies a basic run-down on the situation that had quickly devolved from a routine stakeout to a giant clusterfuck of epic proportions – a clusterfuck that unfortunately, he was responsible for.

It would have been a lot easier to bring Rizzoli in on the investigation in the first place, a point he had stressed loudly and frequently when he was updating his superiors on the status of the Hoyt case. But orders were orders and Dean had been authorized to brief Doctor Isles only, with the intent of bringing the medical examiner on board as a consultant until they caught these slippery bastards.

Normally, he would be on board with his superiors; as a general rule, local law enforcement typically just got on the way, muddying the waters of investigations with the cowboy-hero mentality that seemed to be reinforced during police academy training. Dean had seen his fair share of cases ripped to shreds on the witness stand because of shoddy police work, swearing each time would be the last.

But Jane Rizzoli was no ordinary detective. Something that had been made abundantly clear to him not more than a half-hour ago when she'd tackled him with enough force to make any linebacker jealous. And not just any tackle – he'd fallen face first into a muddy stream and was covered head to toe in the squishy, freezing goo.

No, he definitely wouldn't be telling his colleagues about that any time soon. He winced as he stretched out his back, feeling the grinding pop of misaligned vertebrae moving into pace. The chilled night air seemed to seep through his clothes, making Dean begin to question the wisdom of this little misadventure.

It would have been easier to bring Rizzoli in on it, orders be damned.

The aforementioned detective was pacing his way now, hellfire and damnation blazing in her eyes as she came to a halt a few feet away.

"How's your partner?" Dean asked casually, hoping to diffuse what was sure to be a tense confrontation with the beautiful detective. She didn't have to know that he'd already read her file and was aware that paired with the puking pansy.

"He's fine," came the curt response, her dark eyes flashing in irritation as she crossed her arms over her chest. "The medics got him stabilized and he's on his way to the ER. I'm headed that way as soon as we finish processing the scene here."

The lack of correction was telling – Jane Rizzoli didn't trust him. Dean couldn't really blame her, either. He'd be pretty pissed off too if he were in her shoes. He opened his mouth to issue another apology but was silenced by a finger pointed to his face.

"How the hell did you hear about my crime scene?"

"I was trying to catch Hoyt, same as you." Rule number one was simple – if you can't answer the question you're asked, answer the one you can.

"Who told you?" Jane enunciated clearly, lips forming the shape of the words so perfectly a deaf man would have no problems following them. Clearly the rulebook didn't matter when it came to Detective Rizzoli.

"Look, your medical examiner didn't mean any harm. She was looking over a few case and she may have accidentally let it slip about the fourth vic." Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "I was trying to help..."

Her eyes narrowed, skimming up and down the form of the mud-covered agent. "Yeah, I can clearly see that."

Dean shrugged. "I try."

"Why the hell are you here? What's the FBI's interest in this case?"

"You know I can't tell you that," he raised his hands apologetically. Surely this wasn't the first time one of her cases overlapped with the government's.

Clearly that was the wrong answer, a long, slender finger waving itself in his face. "Muck up one of my cases again, and I'll arrest your ass for obstruction. Your choice." She spun around, storming away before he could mutter another word, his dark brown eyes leveled on the detective's back as she stormed away.

No, Jane Rizzoli was not your typical detective.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

"Jane. Jane? JANE!"

And still she kept walking.

The footsteps picked up their pace, the sound of high heels clicking on the battered linoleum floor. Jane came to a stop in front of the elevator, jabbing her finger repeatedly against the down button, as if the magic elevator genie would mysteriously appear if she was annoying enough.

A carefully manicured hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder, but Jane shrugged it off, far too angry at the world to welcome that invasion into her personal space. Hazel eyes blinked rapidly at the rebuke, hurt.

"Jane, I'm sorry." And she did sound really, very sorry. "They made me sign a nondisclosure agreement. If I violate that agreement I could face a $250,000 fine or get up to ten years in prison." Maura's tone was pleading, desperate. _Please believe me, Jane. I'm not trying to hurt you. _

Jane's lips pursed into a fine line, silent.

"Please," came the gentle plea. "I understand what Hoyt did to you was terrible and terrifying and..."

Jane turned around, raising her hands to the level of Maura's eyes, palm first, a bitter smile twisting her lips at the doctor's recoil, at the pain that blossomed in those familiar hazel depths. "No," Jane intoned dryly. "I really don't think you do." Ignoring the moisture that seemed to be building in the doctor's eyes, she pushed blindly ahead. "You're supposed to be my best friend, Maura. Best friends don't keep secrets from each other. Not like this."

"Jane, if I could..."

"I've got not one but two serial killers after me and you're hiding behind a fucking nondisclosure policy?" You know what, Maura? Fuck that disclosure policy and fuck you too. I'm not running from this rat bastard any more."

"Jane," Maura's voice wavered slightly as the answering chime of the elevator signaled its arrival on the third floor. "Jane, where are you going?"

"Where I should have gone all along – to drag some bloody answers out of Dean on way or another." She stepped in the elevator, punching the button for the ground floor, refusing to look Maura in the eyes as the polished steel doors began to close.

"Jane," Maura's whisper finally forced the detective to raise her eyes, her chocolate gaze following the tracks of tears that were tracing down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she called through the shrinking opening until the medical examiner was replaced by the polished steel doors.

_So am I, Maura. So am I._

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Maura hesitated, her hand pausing an inch away from Jane's doorway, her stomach churning as she debated the wisdom of coming to Jane's apartment uninvited. She had hoped to make amends with the stubborn detective, and to that extent a peace offering dangled from her right hand, a six-pack of Jane's favorite beer.

Of course, a peace offering would only work if Jane chose to accept it, and the detective had pointedly ignored all her calls and texts thus far. When Maura had dropped by the squad room Korsak had informed her that Jane had left the station about three hours prior.

The rest of her afternoon had been a blur; she was barely able to focus on the two autopsies she'd had to perform that afternoon. She'd spent the better part of her early evening pacing back and forth across her kitchen, half-empty glass of wine dangling from her fingertips, hazel eyes darting to the granite countertop where her cell phone lay.

Finally, enough was enough – Jane would just _have_ to see her. She _had_ to.

Then she'd gotten the idea for the beer.

Knocking lightly on the door, Maura frowned when it creaked open – Jane never left her door unlocked.

"Jane?"

The apartment was silent.

Fear tugging at her insides, Maura hesitantly pushed the door open, pupils dilating as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the apartment – the only light an emergency flood lamp outside Jane's kitchen window.

_God, no._

"Jane?" Panicked, Maura flung the door the rest of the way open, a startled cry escaping her throat at the devastation within. Fumbling, she finally found the light switch, flipping it on.

Jane's apartment looked like a war zone. Furniture overturned, glass shattered, pillows ripped apart – like a scene from a horror movie, Maura could only stare in shock as the six-pack slipped from her fingertips with a distinctive crash of broken glass.

Trotting out of the bedroom, Jo Friday gave a happy bark as she trotted towards the doctor, seemingly oblivious to the destruction around her.

"Oh no, Jane!" Panicked, Maura raced across the room, heedless of the dangers as she raced towards Jane's bedroom, afraid of what she would find. _Please don't let me be too late..._

Empty.

Jane wasn't here.

If Jane wasn't here, and Jo Friday was still alive, then maybe it wasn't Hoyt. Maybe it was just a terrible coincidence that her apartment had been targeted.

With shaky fingers she pulled out her cell phone, collapsing against the wall as she fumbled to punch the familiar number.

"Korsak," the gruff yet familiar voice barked.

"Korsak," Maura's voice wavered slightly. "It's me. I'm at Jane's apartment and it's been torn apart."

"What?" Maura winced, pulling the phone away from her ear at his outcry. "Was Jane there? Is Jane alright?"

"I don't think she knows," Maura's eyes catalogued the scene, mentally marking which surfaces they'd want to sweep for fingerprints. "She's not here. I don't think she's been home yet." A pause, her eyes darting to the tiny, wiggling form at her feet. "Jo Friday's unharmed."

Korsak exhaled in relief. "I'll be over there in a few minutes. I'm sending a couple of uni's your way. Should be there soon."

Maura nodded, sighing shakily as she closed her phone, slowly beginning a preliminary walkthrough of her apartment. Whoever had done this was thorough in their intent. Stepping into the kitchen, Maura's eyes flashed over the open refrigerator door, noting with some dismay that an entire carton of milk had been emptied onto the tile floor.

"Doctor Isles?" Glancing up at the uniformed officer in relief, Maura stepped gingerly towards the man, flashing her credentials and watching his eyes flicker in recognition.

"I haven't touched anything except the door," jerking her head in the direction of the entrance. "Start in the living room, I'm calling my team in."

"B & E?" The officer asked, eyebrows lifting in question.

"I'm not certain," Maura said, stepping back towards the living room. Pulling her phone out, she punched in Jane's number again, praying that this time the detective would at least answer it.

"Hey Maura what is it?"

Maura's eyes fluttered shut as she exhaled in relief. "Jane..." Her voice trailed off as her hazel eyes glanced around at the destruction. How was she supposed to tell Jane about this? Stepping over a broken chair leg, she chewed on her bottom lip. "I'm in your apartment."

"Jane they've been..." she hesitated. "They've been in here."

Maura could hear the sharp intake of breath, could almost see Jane's features hardening. "I'll be right there." Jane hung up before Maura could say anything else.

Korsak arrived on scene a few moments later, with Frost and Frankie in tow, grim- faced and determined. CSU arrived a few minutes later, beginning the arduous processing of the crime scene. Maura helped them, at least at first, designating tasks and roles easily.

Minutes passed.

Jane didn't show.

Frowning, Maura checked her phone again, excusing herself from the scene as she stepped outside for a fresh breath of air, idly watching as one of the crime scene vans pulled away from the scene.

Jane should have been here by now.

So where was _she_?

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

The diner was located in a small building on the outskirts of town, far enough away from the swarm of news vans and television crews that had camped outside the Boston Police department to get a statement on the capture of the notorious Charles Hoyt. Jane preferred it because it was far enough away from the station that most officers didn't bother to swing by and because they had good pancakes.

It was definitely a pancake kind of day.

It was still early enough that the diner lacked its usual traffic, a fact for which Jane was extremely grateful – she had a long list of people she didn't feel like dealing with, at the moment.

It was a list that was growing by the day, and a list that suspiciously lacked the name of a certain medial examiner.

The words on the menu were running together, and Jane's finger lightly scratched across its laminated surface, not really seeing the contents. As hard as she tried, her heart was still racing from her near-death encounter with Hoyt, the events of the previous evening replaying in her mind like a badly scratched record.

Maura bit her lower lip, chewing on it nervously as she studied the brooding detective sitting across the booth from her. It was not lost on the doctor just how precariously close she came to losing her best friend.

Her only friend, really.

That was a disconcerting thought – to realize just how much she'd come to rely on Jane's company. She hasn't even realized how close they'd become until Jane showed up on her doorsteps, trying to escape her well-meaning yet overly attentive family.

The waitress came over – an older woman who was probably in her late fifties but looked about eight. Her bleach blonde hair was severely damaged from repeated abuse and her thickly caked on makeup did nothing to conceal the deep lines that crossed her face. She smacked her lips loudly as she settled her weight over one leg, pen tapping impatiently on the crinkled order sheet as she glanced between the two women.

"What'll it be?" she asked in a nasally tone that closely mimicked the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

If Jane heard her, she gave no sign, her brown eyes studying the menu with the same attention she gave the sports section of the Globe.

Maura waited – too long, in fact – before giving their server an apologetic smile and asking for a few more minutes and a couple of glasses of water. Ignoring the stomping of their server as she stormed to the countertop, Maura once more diverted her attention to the woman across from her, resting her hand atop Jane's.

The detective startled, ripping her hand from beneath Maura's as if it were on fire, a momentary panic flashing across her features, heat suffusing her face when she realized what had happened.

"Guess I'm not as hungry as I thought," Jane mumbled, tossing the menu haphazardly onto the table.

"Proper nutrition is critical for boosting your body's immune response to aid in the healing process," the fact flowing effortlessly from her lips, a slender eyebrow arching at Jane's rolling eyes. "Though I'd hardly call this fare nutritious," she conceded with a nod.

"No," Jane admitted, "but something greasy sounded completely satisfying." With a shrug of her shoulders she slid out of the booth, meeting Maura's inquisitive stare with a penetrating glance of her own. "Come on," the detective opened her wallet, tossing a couple of dollar bills on the table. "Can we go to your place?" Not quite pleading, but it was a request that Maura was happy to oblige.

Besides, she was fairly certain peanut butter and pecan waffles were not on the Surgeon General's list of FDA approved caloric guidelines.

The drive was mercifully quiet, each of the women submerged in the world of their thoughts. Jane hardly realized that the car was moving until Maura pulled into her attached garage.

They made their way inside, Maura found her way into the kitchen to grab a glass of wine for herself and a beer for Jane. She found her in the guest bedroom, sprawled atop the duvet, fingers laced over her stomach.

"Care for some company?" Lazy brown eyes drifted in her direction, a slender eyebrow arching approvingly at the beer bottle dangling from her right hand. Maura passed Jane the bottle as she positioned herself on the bed, folding her legs underneath herself. She sipped at her wine, enjoying the subtle tannic flavor and the delicate floral aroma.

Jane took a long sip of her beer, shrugging as if to say 'it's your house'." Maura stared silently at her glass, swirling the wine as she contemplated how best to draw the detective out of her morose mood.

"Dean couldn't stop looking at you tonight," Maura carefully studied Jane's face, noting the way her masseter muscles contracted at the mention of Dean's name, the vein at her temple becoming more pronounced, throbbing in time with her pulse.

"Yeah, I'm sure Dean was really attracted to me when I'm covered in sweat and mud and who-knows-what-else," the detective snorted derisively, taking another long draw of her beer.

"Well, some men appreciate a more..." Those dark eyes found her own, "um..." Maura's throat constricted at Jane's narrowing eyes, "...a more natural type of woman."

"Wha... Wait a minute," propping herself up on her elbows, "Are you saying I stink?"

"No, of course not!" Maura stuttered, heat rising unbidden to her cheeks. "I was just trying to..." A small smile quirked the corner of Jane's mouth, and Maura realized she'd been played. Her body relaxed, the tension releasing from her shoulders as she smacked the detective on her arm.

"Hey!" Jane protested with no real heat, settling back on the bed. "Easy there Tyson. I might have to run you in for assaulting an officer."

Brown eyes met hazel as both women burst into giggles, falling back on the bed in a peaceful calm. Jane stared at her hands, thumbs idly tracing over the puckered scars that marred the smooth skin.

"Thanks," Jane said, her eyes never leaving her hands.

Maura swallowed. Part of her really wanted to ask Jane about what had happened with Hoyt, if not to assuage her curiosity then to provide some semblance of closure to the woman who had become a very dear, dear friend.

"That's what friends are for, right?" Her hazel eyes lifted, meeting Jane's gaze hopefully.

Jane smiled. "Yeah, Maur, that's what friends are for."


End file.
